Page 89 of Ghost Ribbon

“It’s not enough,” I corrected. I twisted my wrist, scissoring and curling until he was shaking under me. “Not until you’re open enough to take my cock.”

I leaned up and kissed him while my fingers kept working him open. He kissed back desperately, moaning into my mouth, one hand fisted in my shirt.

When I finally pulled my fingers free, his hole fluttered. I sat back on my heels again and just looked at him.

He was mine. Mine to mark. Mine to fuck. Mine to keep.

Chapter 23 - Marco

My chest rose and fell too fast.

I could feel every place he had touched - my nipples still wet and tender from his mouth, my cock leaking onto my stomach, my thighs trembling. I didn’t look down at myself. I never did. I knew what I would see: too skinny, too pale, ribs showing a little too much, nothing like the powerful, dangerous body hovering over me.

Why was he even touching me? Why did someone like him - someone who could end a life without blinking - want anything to do with me?

He reached into his pocket.

A small bottle. Clear liquid inside. Lube.

He had been carrying it with him. My stomach flipped. Had he planned this? Or did he just… always expect to end up like this with me? I didn’t want to know the answer. I didn’t want to think about how prepared he was, how easily he had made me chaseable, catchable, fuckable.

Alexei’s eyes never left mine as he started undressing.

First the jacket. Then the shirt. Buttons came undone one by one, slow enough that I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. His chest was broad, cut with muscle, skin golden in the city lights. And there - inked across his left pectoral and climbing toward his collarbone- was a constellation. Delicate lines connecting stars, ending in a crescent moon right at the base of his throat.

It was stunning. He was stunning. The ink moved with every breath he took, and I forgot how to swallow.

He caught me staring.

“Done gawking, little star?”

I flushed instantly. “I wasn’t—”

“You were.” He smirked and shrugged the shirt off completely.

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because he was right.

He hooked his thumbs into his trousers and pushed them down along with his underwear. His cock sprang free. I had seen it before. Felt it against me, in my mouth once. But this time it looked even bigger. Longer. The veins stood out, the head shiny with a bead of precum. My hole clenched involuntarily at the sight. He wouldn’t fit. He was going to split me open.

I swallowed hard, throat dry.

Alexei didn’t rush. He picked up the small bottle, uncapped it, and poured a generous amount of clear lube into his palm. Then he wrapped that big hand around his cock and stroked. He made sure I watched. Made sure I saw every glide of his fist, every twist over the head, the way his abs tightened and the constellation on his chest shifted with the motion. He was putting on a show. For me.

My cock twitched against my stomach, traitorously hard.

He capped the bottle and tossed it aside. Then his hands were on my thighs. He yanked me down the blankets toward him. The motion dragged my bare ass across the fabric, spreading me wider. I gasped.

Before I could catch my breath he leaned over me, one hand braced beside my head, and kissed me.

He reached down, gripped his slick cock, and rubbed the fat head right against my entrance. Not pushing in, just dragging it up and down, circling, pressing the blunt tip against my hole. The lube made everything slippery and obscene. Every time he nudged the head against me I felt myself flutter, trying to open, trying to pull him in even though I was terrified.

I really should have run faster.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I didn’t dare touch him.

Alexei noticed.

He stopped teasing my hole and caught both my wrists in one big hand. Gently he guided my arms up and around his neck. My fingers brushed the warm skin there.